Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Rage State

So I'm on a diet. It's been two days. And it's boring. This is The Diet though - at least I think it is ~ the Big Kahuna, the Long Kiss Goodnight, the Cappo di Tutti Weightloss.

And it's weird, because it doesn't feel like the All Guns Blazing assaults of old. Rather this is the tired, grim resignation that I've gotta sort this shit out, and before it's too late.

You see for quite some time now (i.e. every fucking day), I've been sensing that I'm Missing Life - I'm capitalising that because I'm aware that 'Missing Life' simply is my life now; biding my time, complaining a lot, and waiting for something better to just happen. As a result waiting's all I ever do, and I do it listlessly. Whatever I'm waiting for, like tomorrow and a girl I once dated, it never comes. So I keep waiting. And I don't do anything. And I don't affect change. I just remain in limbo.

And that's a ridiculous way to exist.

I've been thinking about the trajectory I'm on, and it scares the living shit out of me. Somehow, it's given me foresight. Without any change - I'm sure - I'm guaranteeing myself just more of the same. And then I'll die.

Hurrah! Funpost.

Needless to say, I don't want that. I really, really, really don't want that, and as someone who seems unable to know what it is that I want, it's nice for once to have the certainty of knowing what I don't want, in a million, billion suns. And that's my current existence, with its lack of excitement, and direction, or exit.

But it is the easy route though, the lazy route, the path of least resistance with its HD TV promises and cheese-covered loneliness, the road to a billion wanks in the dark with a gut full of chocolate.

It was an anonymous commentator on my last post that finally got me thinking. He, probably a he but I suppose maybe a she, wrote that I should "get into a rage state, look at myself and say fuck this, ive wasted enough time," and I like that. Mainly, I like Rage State, particularly as I get those on a daily basis. The absurdity is that they're always via mundane things out of my control, like the tourists who'd stopped to listen to their guide yesterday, blocking off the entire pavement for pedestrians called Me. And on the train home this evening, I had to sit arm-to-arm against a behemoth of a man who occupied all his seat and half of mine, whilst giving a full job description to whoever was on the end of his phone, causing me to stop reading my book so I could flare my nostrils and stare intently at my shoes.

That shit gets me into rage states all the time. It envelopes my world and gives me focus to live. It's negative as hell, but it keeps my fat corpse standing. I could focus that vast reservoir of energy into self-improvement but I don't. I never have. Instead, I just get stressed, allow that tumour in my head to grow, and eat the pain away.

I checked out my BMI this afternoon. It transpires that I'm obese, and I didn't even know it; a sizable 8lbs in the over overweight zone. And that didn't do my fragile ego any good at all.
Then I read the disclaimer that the index can "wrongly suggest fatness in people who are athletic or muscular". That bit, I liked, even though I'm neither, just stocky.
Yet despite this my ego rose up to middling.

So my diet started yesterday. It didn't feel like a diet because I ended the evening stuffing huge wraps of bread down my yaphole, a technique I like to call "Eating the Evidence" as I'd forgotten to consume it during my Sunday night junk food feeding frenzy.

This morning, I decided to bin the remaining wraps.

So it's Day Two, and it's about time I did this. And when I fuck up - and I will fuck up - I'll just get back on it the next day.

Primarily this is going to be for the next two or three months, to shed a couple of stone and get my confidence back. But in the long term, I'm trying to adjust my thinking, and my habits. Because I have to do this for life.

Of course, only time will tell just how full of shit (or not) I actually am, but I know I can't go on like this. I'm now the wrong side of my Thirties. I haven't had sex in four years. I'm single-handedly ruining the best years of my life - you know, the ones where my knees still work and all bones are my originals. Plus I want to write. I want to write and be creative for a living. I can't do an office desk job dealing with customers much longer.

I'd like muscle definition and a decent career by year's end.

Failing that, I'll accept filthy, random sex. That would be a good enough consolation price.


Carnalis said...

filthy sex is always worth it .. keep thinking of filthy sex everytime you think you might fall off the plan

Pearl said...

Filthy random sex is a hell of a motivator.

My son went on the Adkins last year and lost 97 pounds. Guess who started the Adkins today? That's right. Me.

Good luck to you. And good luck to me!


Z said...

In getting the first two, I think that the third is pretty well assured. The filthy, anyway. I'm not entirely sure that random is really quite you.

Anonymous said...

i've been following your blog for a long time now, and this is the first posting in a long time that gave me hope! get off your ass and do it! no ifs or buts or maybes. there are people who live their life with only a stump for an arm and manage to climb mountains!
this is all said with endearment. I really hope you go through with your rage state... it's the best thing you can do for yourself (and you are pretty damn awesome). the energy you put out is the energy you get back, and you've been a debbie downer for too long!
best of luck to you from Canada!

Anonymous said...

its a long time since you were blog of the week in that , but take it from me rubes, your back on form fella...i concur with the other anonymous.

your not so northern admirer;)

Dandelion said...

I love the name rubes.

Dandelion said...

Also, I love the new modern blog-look. Much more globular.

Po said...

I'm glad you updated :) Good luck with the diet and occasional self-loathing and the filthy sex.

daisyfae said...

"Rage State"? Isn't that one of the 'stans, over there where the war continues?

just back from a 2 week holiday in a very romantic location - with two gal pals. and it was fabulous! i could wait a long time waiting for the perfect male companion - and i'd fuck up a lot of great opportunities for joy if i did.

get mad. stay mad. it's good for you!

looby said...

Fweng - I got made redundant from a desk job dealing with tw... er, customers a year ago and my life has picked up hugely. I've started having sex again, look and feel better, I've bitched my bus pass in favour of a bike, saticenand have swapped a crap salary for an almost non-existent one and am a hundred times happier.

Maybe redouble your job application efforts? Myabe the job is a lot to do with it.

Anna said...

I can relate to you somewhat...even though we are completely different. Just started reading your blog a couple of weeks ago. All I can say for now is Damn!

Anonymous said...

Fweng, it seems to me that you are still way too comfortable and adjusted to your current way of living.
What you need to do to bring about change -- hard and cruel though it may seem -- is to leave that big cosy bubble, your comfort zone. Walk out of that bubble and away from your self-pity, man, and free yourself. Or if you cannot muster the strength to do that, find something/one with the power to give you a good painful kick in the butt and make your realise that your aren't quite dead yet. Life is out there, so why not jump off your little treadmill and go get it while you can.

fwengebola said...

Carnalis ~ It's a bit eerie, but my sex drive seems to have diminished, and I'm not quite sure why. I'm hoping it'll come back and I can concentrate on filthy, random sex.
Pearl ~ 97lbs?? That's nuts! That's like over 6.5 stone! That's incredible! On Adkins? That's a hell of an acheivement. Well good luck to you too. I'd personally advocate sensible eating, and exercise, but you gotta do whatever works.
Z ~ But I want random, Zed! Just because it's not me (it isn't) doesn't mean I don't absolutely want it.
Although a museum beforehand would be nice.
Oh god...
Anon ~ Thank you from London. I really appreciate the awesome bit. And my god you're right about the Debbie Downer. I've just reminded myself now. You have a lovely, lovely day.
Smiley face.
Anon ~ You mean, my stalker. Yes, thank you too. Hurrah.
Dand ~ It's my real-life nickname. One of them. And hey, thanks for the compliment. Smiley face, excalmation mark, etc.
Po ~ Oh hello. Welcome? And thank you. I appreciate all good wishes. You are lovely.
Df ~ American and with a passport. I'm impressed. I'm also going to stay mad, as a favour to you.
Looby ~ That's all great news. I will be looking soon, but one thing at a time. I think I ought to stay put til the end of the year. Maybe do some - ugh - creative writing in spare time, whenever the hell that is.
But babysteps. That's the plan.
Anna ~ Thanks Anna. Really sorry you've picked it up now, when I've been about as happy as plump, cornfed chicken in a foxhole. But yes. Damn?
Anon ~ No, you're absolutely right. And I've made changes. Big enough to have an effect, small enough not to jar me and make me give up. Slow and steady wins the race...

Fucking hell, I've completely lost my personality.

luna said...

You mustn't take those doctors charts too seriously.

They're mostly made up.

30 years ago they said you had to weigh in at your height in centimeters: if your height was 180 your ideal weight was 80kg = 160lb.

Then they invented the various BMIs.

Then they said BMI was rubbish, what counts is the fat to muscle ratio.

The latest update is ,being thin is meaningless,because the important measurement is the volume of fat around your internal organs,visible only through an MRI scan.(very expensive)

So don't congratulate yourself too soon:you're thin,but not proven healthy.
You can still die of a heart attack,diabetes,alzheimer,stroke,...,shortly.

fwengebola said...

Ah, you're back. And characteristically contrary. Well yes, I know those charts aren't exactly accurate. That was my point. But thanks for the reminder that I could still die of something nasty, as opposed to grinning with the sheer pleasure of it all, when I'm 130.